I won't dispute the fine work that McConaughey and Leto did in Dallas Buyers Club, but I can't shake the feeling that their intentions as artists were more about winning Oscars and less about telling the story of people dying from AIDS.
Another over-long, self-aggrandizing paean to itself is over, and today we're blearily cleaning up after last night's party, washing dishes still thick with themed leftovers (12 Years a Beer, Filotomena, Star Trek into Meatloaf), wondering what actually happened. And why.
Usually, you root for your favorite films and actors, and if you're interested -- the writers and directors. Now, that you have some time to kill until the next award show, it's time to school yourself about the other, less glamorous categories.
Most SoCal residents are sedate, middle-class people with just a hint of craziness to them -- that quiet spark that drove them long ago to pack up and leave the East Coast/Midwest/Deep South to pursue their pot of gold right here in the Golden State. And this brings us to It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.
Is it perhaps time I did something, like wrote a script, that could still work? I am definitely too old and too realistic to think I could start making it as an actress, but even with writing I am not sure I could pull it off.
There are hundreds of little Lupitas across the globe that now believe they can achieve their dreams because of your presence as an astounding role model. This Oscar win is more than just another accolade; it symbolizes a change that women of color have been waiting for.
If more blockbusters were in contention for Best Picture, it would not be a stretch to imagine a 10 to 20 percent increase in ratings. That would equate to millions of dollars for ABC and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
12 Years a Slave winning the Best Picture Oscar is a major moment in cinema, but we must view this film understanding the necessity of not allowing it to be the definitive story of our history.
Did you hear that Frozen song on the Oscars last night? Did something smell funny about it to you? Listen, I'm no expert. I'm just a concerned parent, like you.
Like many of you, I spent the evening with Ellen on this Sunday night (Oscar telecast). But while you were watching her deliver pizza to Meryl Streep and retweeting her selfies, I was thinking about how great an Executive Director she would be.
The road to equality and justice is paved with the tireless work of countless individuals that opened doors so that others could kick them down later.
To the extent that the movie implies that this relatively small time hustler was Wall Street's biggest, worst, most notorious or even a representative wolf of Wall Street, Leonardo DiCaprio and Martin Scorcese are howling up the wrong tree.
Jennifer Lawrence, in red this time, fell (sigh) on the red carpet, how perfect. Maybe she thought she would blend with it? This girl was either drunk or has two left feet. I hope she gets the videos of every year she takes a tumble.
Hollywood elite donned their designer gowns and tuxes as they lauded themselves for exposing the grotesque and horrifying excess of Belfort's world. And then did what? Retreated back into their relatively modest and understated lives?
For those of us who displayed the ultimate stamina last night and braved three-and-a-half hours of glitzy ho-hum, here is a recap of those who distinguished themselves at the microphone while holding their Oscar.
In all, the show was no enormous shame, a few good jokes, no great shocks. But the program did its job. It honored those who labored long and hard in the film industry this past year. And maybe that's all we should expect.